


Gone in a Flash

by nautilicious



Series: Touchstone [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Flash Gordon - Freeform, Gen, Light Angst, Movie Night, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilicious/pseuds/nautilicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Flash Gordon comics and radio plays are from the 30's; Tony decides to show Steve the 80's remake. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone in a Flash

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Roane for her quick beta read. She always says just the right thing.

Tony starts the DVD with a flourish. “You’re going to love this,” he says.

Steve isn’t sure about that, since Tony’s gifts seem to either be perfect or miss the mark completely, but it’s a rainy Tuesday evening and he doesn’t have anything better to do until Natasha gets in contact again. Tony obviously remembered that the Flash Gordon comics and radio plays came out during Steve’s childhood and wants to— well, he doesn’t know what Tony wants. To make fun of the entertainment of the 30's, maybe, or to show Steve how much better movies are nowadays. Steve decides to believe that Tony might be genuinely interested in sharing something with him. Maybe watching a movie together will rub off some of the rough edges that still snag when he and Tony talk.

Steve dislikes Flash right away. He seems like a caricature of a square-jawed hero, and Steve definitely doesn’t like how he looks at Dale Arden. No gentleman would be so sleazy, and he’s supposed to be the hero! He considers saying something but doesn’t want to criticize his gift in the first ten minutes.

Steve doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry when Flash takes the plane down for an emergency landing. The action onscreen is completely over the top, not even close to realistic, yet it brings him back to all the mornings he woke damp with sweat, lungs heavy with the memory of water. “That’s harder than they made it look,” he tries to joke, but even he can tell it falls flat.

“Ok, Rogers, don’t make the mistake of taking this movie seriously,” Tony says. “This is one of the most unserious movies imaginable.”

Steve shrugs his shoulders, tries to get into it. The film takes the most outrageous stuff from the comics, dresses it in fantastic costumes, and adds a compelling rock and roll score. (He thinks he might have to go and find the soundtrack just for the gorgeous spaceflight sequence.) But he can’t let some things go by without comment.

“Zarkov just pulled her into the line of fire! He's supposed to be her friend.”

“I’m sure it was just bad blocking. No one thought about this movie that hard,” Tony says. “Just go with it, man.” He pours himself a drink. “God, I wish you could drink. There’s an excellent drinking game.”

Steve also wishes that he could drink, because he’s not sure he can make it through the whole movie. Tony seems to be enjoying himself, though, talking back to the screen and critiquing every robot that appears. Steve likes how it feels to share something, sitting on the couch like friends. Watching a terrible movie seems a small price to pay for some of the first easy moments he’s had with Tony.

“Flash has a bad butt for a superhero,” Tony says suddenly. Steve hadn’t noticed. Tony rewinds and they watch the heroes walk up some steps. “Yours is better,” Tony adds. “Hell, all the Avengers have better asses. If there’s one thing we’ve got, it’s the booty.”

Steve grins. He’s noticed that for himself.

Steve points out the artistry of some of the sets and costumes, and Tony actually listens. Everything looks so flashy, fabrics and colors that he’d never seen in his time. He finds the whole aesthetic of it fascinating. The bittersweet gratitude of living in the future washes over him: so many new things to explore, so many miracles he’d have missed, bought at a cost that some days feels too high.

Steve sits quietly until the Emporer’s subjects greet him with an enthusiastic hail. “I’m not so into citizens that _heil_ ,” he says. It’s an ugly reference, even dressed in glitter and gold.

“That’s the point,” Tony says. “We’re just a dumb American audience—in the 80s, remember? — and we’re supposed to get that Ming is a fascist. Gotta make it obvious.”

“That’s not really funny right now, considering what just went down with HYDRA,” Steve says.

Tony shrugs. “The Nazis are a part of human history. We’ve never stopped wrestling with them, and it looks like we won’t any time soon, either.”

“And a cartoon emperor doesn’t cheapen it for you?”

Tony pauses. “There will always be people that go for what HYDRA believes. Ming is a joke, but he wouldn’t resonate if those issues weren’t still there. Better to be a joke than to be forgotten. And he’s so over-the-top that people can mock him, which makes them feel better.”

Steve settles into silence. He knows Tony is coming from a good place, wants to give Steve a laugh, but it’s going to take more than campy dialogue to make some of these themes funny for him. He takes a breath, tries to view the movie with Tony’s mindset. Except then Emperor Ming uses some kind of magic ring to hypnotize and molest Dale Arden. He remembers hypnosis figuring prominently in a couple of the comics, but it had upset him at the time; he’d hoped that a retelling of the story would treat Dale better. He tells Tony as much.

Tony frowns. “I’d forgotten about that part. I mean, it is sort of the fate of women in movies everywhere,” Tony glances over and finishes quickly, “which sucks! No one should treat women that way. You know I believe that.”

Steve sighs.

Tony passes him the popcorn. “Maybe this was a bad choice,” he says, and he sounds so dejected Steve mentally kicks himself.

“No, it’s ok,” he says. “Let’s keep going.”

“It’s just, you’ve gotta embrace the cheese. It’s seriously funny if you can get there,” Tony says.

Steve tries. Fortunately, the next scene involves some kind of football madness disguised as a fight, and Steve laughs aloud. “Ok,” he says, “that was in fact the most ridiculous fight I’ve ever seen.”

Tony beams. “That’s the spirit.”

Steve debates pointing out that Ming’s henchmen wear jackboots but then he reminds himself it’s meant to be satire. He starts seeing the cliches, and the movie does seem to be trying to hit them all. He understands why Tony thinks it’s funny. He even starts to enjoy himself, and then the villain sentences one of the protagonists to “conditioning.”

Tony looks at him, his discomfort plain, and Steve bites his lip. “It’s only a movie,” he says, but he’s not sure which of them he wants to reassure.

The machine ignores the hero’s pleas for mercy and strips his mind. Steve sees him emptied, unmade. He screams and writhes on the table as he’s programmed as an enemy agent. He’s sent to betray and kill his friend and Steve finds himself stumbling to his feet, his chest tight and his heart hammering.

Tony stops the DVD. He looks upset. “Shit,” he said. “I haven’t seen this movie in a while—I just wanted to take your mind off of things.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I promise, the second half is all terrible fight scenes and awesome music.”

Steve shakes his head, tries to catch his breath. 

“I’ve got Indiana Jones,” Tony says. “We can try that instead. You’ll like him. He’s this brilliant, hot, do-gooder type with questionable ethics. Sort of like someone crossed you and me together. You’re obviously the do-gooder part; I suck at that. And it’s set in the 30's!”

“We can finish Flash Gordon,” Steve says. “Later. It’s fine, Tony, really. I just need to get some air.” He leaves Tony looking concerned, closes the door gently behind him.

Steve goes to the roof. Rain has stilled the city into a kind of quiet. He lets the memories run behind his eyes. Bucky stands at the center, best remembered and most missed, and Steve feels the weight of everything he wishes he’d said.

He looks out over the lights of a New York that can never take the place of his New York, and yet is the only New York he has anymore. He wonders if Bucky is close, searching for the familiar in the bones of the city, or if he’s in some other part of the world making something new for himself. Steve doesn’t know which he thinks would be better.

Tomorrow he will watch the rest of a foolish movie with Tony and make an effort to find the amusement in it. He’ll wait for the next lead from Natasha. He’ll have a good meal. Tonight, a storm lingers over the city and Steve turns up his face, lets his tears make saltwater of the rain.


End file.
